


And Then She Stole My Soul

by the_first_law



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, like a hallmark movie, tropey goodness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-05 11:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_first_law/pseuds/the_first_law
Summary: Claire Beauchamp and Jamie Fraser meet on accident one night at a fundraising banquet but part ways at the end of the evening, never expecting to see one another again. But fate has a different plan for them both.





	1. Of Slipping Strapless Dresses and Dangerously High Heels

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first rodeo folks! I have a few chapters written already that will be up in fairly quick succession. I don't expect readers to invest without knowing a bit about me or the fic though so here we go. 
> 
> I have been writing fanfic for nearly two years now.
> 
> I fell in love with Outlander nearly four years ago. While I like different things now than I did then, the characters of Jamie and Claire still demand my attention.
> 
> In this fic you can expect to see nearly every trope you can reasonably fit into one fic (except roommates to lovers...because they're not. Not roommates...), a lot of sweet things that would give you cavities (if fanfic could), and of course expect to see Jamie and Claire fall in love (oops spoiler. No, wait. We all expect that.)
> 
> Rating may change later!

“Joe, can’t we leave  _ yet?”  _

She knew she was whining, just a  _ little.  _ And she also knew that she shouldn’t whine. She hadn’t any more right to gripe about the situation than any of the other doctors or nurses there. Everyone had worked long hours before the banquet. Everyone was tired. And everyone knew the only purpose of the whole evening was to schmooze with big donors that supported the hospital.

But her high heels hurt her feet and she couldn’t stop adjusting the strapless dress that kept sliding  _ just a little _ , leaving her feeling more vulnerable than she would have liked.

“You know we can’t, LJ,” he chided. “Gotta hobnob with the bigwigs! You should dance instead of just sitting here. At the very least it will keep you awake!” He winked then was gone in a blur of coattails, off to the dance floor.

She cupped her cheek in her hand and rested her elbow on the table, trying to look attentive and not like she was sulking. But she was sulking.

“Nurse Beauchamp?” a smooth voice interrupted her reverie. “Would you dance with me?”

Frank didn’t wait for a reply, taking her hand and raising her up to follow him to the dance floor.

“Listen, Frank,” she began. “It’s not a big deal, but I don’t want to dance much, all right? I’m tired and I worked a long shift just before this and I really just wish I was home.” She rolled her shoulders to loosen them even as he pressed closer to her as they danced.

She had known Frank Randall for nearly two years, her entire time at the hospital. He worked for the company that insured them. He was intelligent. He could calculate the costs of certain medical accidents or malpractice suits in his head. He was reliable. He arrived at meetings promptly and scheduled appointments with consistency. 

He was also quite dull.

“May I cut in?”

The voice came from a tall, redheaded man whom she had never seen before. 

She was in his arms before she knew what happened. Frank  _ must  _ have replied. There must have been some sort of introduction. But all she knew was that she was so close to him she could feel the beating of his heart as her head suddenly found its home against his broad chest.

“Lass?” His voice was both gentle and strong, calling for attention yet not demanding it. “I didna catch yer name.”

She looked up into his deep blue eyes then and saw the crinkles around the edges as he smiled at her, prompting her own laughter to tumble forth at how quickly she’d fallen into his arms, at how easily she had settled there, and how natural it had felt to her. 

“I’m Claire. Claire Beauchamp. And you are?”

“James Fraser. Or Jamie if ye like. ‘Tis what most call me anyway.” He shrugged as they continued their delicate swaying across the floor.

“Ye looked,” he paused as if not certain he should speak. “Weel, ye looked a mite uncomfortable back there.”

She shrugged, feeling the fabric of his sharp-looking suit against her bare arms and shoulders. “Frank can be, well, rather dull in all honesty. He is kind and reliable and we’ve known one another for some time. But,” she paused, trying to decipher an explanation that encompassed it all, “He’s kind and reliable.”

“And ye were uncomfortable,” he said, this time without question.

“I was,” she smiled. “But I’m not now.”

They danced, pressed against one another until the evening ended and they parted ways.

* * *

Outside after the function she’d quickly realized she was missing something integral. She’d run back into the building, to grab her phone that she’d left on the table and was now coming back out to catch a cab home. It was dark, she was tired, the day had been  _ long.  _ But she’d danced with Jamie so she couldn’t say it had all been bad.

It really had been rather nice.

It  _ had  _ been up until her heel caught in a crack on the sidewalk and she felt pain like the stab of a burning knife shoot up from her ankle to her calf.

“ _ Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!”  _ she hissed, tears burning the back of her eyes as she went down into an awkward crouch, attempting to protect her ankle from the trauma it had already suffered.

“Och, lass, are ye all right? I saw you-” James Fraser stood there before her, about to rescue her yet again. “Claire?”

“I twisted it and I don’t think I can walk on it. At least not in these,” she gestured to her heels, the cause of a good portion of her pain for the entire evening.

Jamie stepped to the curb to hail the coming cab, then whirled back to her.

“Let me?” he raised his brows as he asked her gently before scooping her up into his powerful arms, as easily as if she was a child, and carried her to the cab, tenderly settling her inside. “I’ll see ye home and settled in, aye?”

“Yes,” she mumbled, feeling as though she  _ ought  _ to be ashamed for being a baby but instead feeling safe and reassured by his presence next to her.

When she began to shiver, he shrugged out of his coat and wrapped her in it. When they went around a corner, the cab gaining momentum and she sliding against the slippery fabric of the vinyl seat, and she hissed in pain, he put his arm over her shoulder to steady her. And when they arrived at her place, he carried her in despite her weak protests that she could walk herself inside, settled her in bed with ibuprofen, ice, and an ace bandage.

“Yer sure it’s not broken?”

“Jamie, it’s my  _ job  _ to know things like that. It’s not broken,” she insisted. It  _ probably  _ wasn’t.

“Call me if there’s anything ye need,” he demanded, slipping a business card under her cell phone on the bedside table. He bent, placed a kiss on her forehead, and walked to her door calling out, “I’ll lock it behind me.”

And then he was gone.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire wakes up and realizes that her "small" injury may be more significant than she implied it was the night before. How will she manage things?

She felt a gentle warmth enveloping her when she woke the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the slats in her blinds and scattered across the rumpled bedding. Claire rolled over lazily then hissed in pain, quickly remembering the long day before, the short dance with Frank, the dreaded incident with her high heels and the sidewalk, followed finally with the rescue by Jamie.

_ Jamie. _

He’d known her but a few hours and had still brought her home and settled her in. A smile slowly spread across her face as she allowed her thoughts to linger on her short time with him.

There were very few memories she possessed of her parents, but one of the most distinct was of sitting in her mother’s lap. Something had happened earlier in the day that Claire still didn’t know, but her mother had scooped up little Claire and had begun to explain how feelings were meant to protect us and to help us. She clearly remembered being told to trust those feelings.

And she, for that reason, trusted her feelings about Jamie.

Tossing back the covers, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly tried putting some weight on her swollen, bruised ankle. 

_ No. Not going to happen. _

Just as it had the night before and white hot pain shot up her leg and had the tears in her eyes welling up once more as she plopped right back down onto the mattress she’d vacated only a split second before.

“Ooookay,” she said aloud, words bouncing around the empty room. “Okay. Hopping it is.” She made her awkward way to the bathroom followed by the kitchen where she brewed a cup of tea then pondered with frustration how to hop while holding the scalding beverage. Stuck deciding between standing in a one-legged flamingo-like pose while she drank the cup down to a suitable level or scooting it across the island, hopping a few steps, scooting and hopping until she was close enough to a comfortable seat, she was interrupted by a knock on her front door.

“Just a second!” she yelled, setting the cup down and splashing her tea anyway, she began the undignified trek to the door.

Yanking it open, one hand on the knob and the other on the doorframe for balance, she caught a flash of red and a disappearing figure.

“Jamie?” she called out, not even giving a second thought or wondering why he’d be there.

“Aye?”

He came back around the corner into view, coppery hair a bit mussed, eyes bright and alert. 

“I just thought ye might need something to tide ye over until that,” he jerked his head in the direction of her foot that was hovering a few inches above the ground, “Was taken care of.”

Then she noticed the brown paper bags of groceries sitting on the ground just to the side of the doorway.

“You didn’t have to do that!” she protested. “Really. It’s just fine, I’m fine,” she continued.

He folded his arms across his chest and raised his brows silently. “Aye, I can see ye’ll be ready to run out and get yer own groceries soon,” he teased as her cheeks pinkened in response. “Will ye no’ let me bring them in? Since I’m here anyway?”

“Um, yes,” she scooched back, out of the way, but instead of picking up the groceries he came close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body, faithfully putting out British Thermal Units like an electric storage heater. 

“Let me take care of ye, Claire?” His voice was gentle though his presence was intense. She hadn’t any thought of turning him away, regardless of what he meant. She didn’t care. He was Jamie and for whatever reason, she would have trusted him with anything.

As he had the night before, he lifted her gently and, with her direction brought her to the couch in her living room. He stacked pillows under her foot, eliciting more giggles from her as his giant hands and muscular arms mashed her decorative, rather feminine throw pillows into shape. Soon enough, her tea was beside her on the end table, an ice pack wrapped her ankle, and James Fraser was putting away groceries in her kitchen, humming a familiar rhythm though only three notes were produced. 

“Now,” he settled his tall, lean frame into the chair across from her, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Have ye been in to see if it’s broken or not?”

“You know I haven’t been in,” she retorted, lacking any real malice in her tone. “I only did it last night and it’s just morning now.”

“Urgent care then? So you can get in and be seen now?” he queried, eyebrows arching.

She closed her eyes and let her head thump back on the upholstered arm of the couch. “I suppose. You don’t need to take me though. I could get there on my own.”

“Like ye got home on yer own last night?” he grinned cheekily.

“Fine,” she tried not to smile, knowing that he was right.

“Why?” she asked after a brief pause.

“Why what?” His brows knitted in puzzlement.

“Why are you helping me? Why is it important when you don’t even know me?” she pressed.

He was silent for a moment, face taking on a slightly pinker hue, before he continued. “‘Tis just somethin’ my da told me a long time ago.” He shrugged, then changed topics. “Can I grab ye a jacket then, Sassenach?”

“Front hall closet,” she waved a long-fingered hand in the general direction then turned to lever herself around in the couch cushions. “You’re really going to do this then?” She teased. “Take me there right now and carry me in like a baby?”

“I’m going to to this,” he nodded. “I’ll always carry you when ye need it.” 


	3. Ice Packs, Hot Packs, and Frozen Peas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire is "just fine." Or at least that is what she keeps insisting.

“I  _ told  _ you it wasn’t broken.” She grimaced when her toe bumped the floor and the pain radiated upward again. “I’m just fine.” The last bit was grunted through clenched teeth and would have convinced absolutely nobody let alone someone who had seen the truth of the matter.

“Sure, Sassenach,” he said, placatingly. “In you go.”

They were outside of urgent care where Jamie had taken her to have her ankle x-rayed and examined. A severe sprain had her in a boot and on crutches, the crutches hopefully to be abandoned at the end of the week for just the boot alone.

Now they were catching a cab back to her apartment where Claire was certain her red-headed Scot would help her settle in before leaving her once more. His hand settled on the small of her back as he helped her into the car, one hand grabbing the crutches from her. She slid across the seat into place, buckled herself in, and pulled her cell phone from her pocket to silence it completely and get it to cease vibrating.

Six texts from Joe who she’d literally  _ just  _ seen when walking -being wheeled in a wheelchair, actually- through the emergency wing to the urgent care clinic.

_ “Saw you blow through here with your Scot. Also saw your name is not on the board for the schedule this week. What’s happening, LJ?” _

She rolled her eyes, glanced quickly at Jamie to check if he was watching her, and shot back a quick  _ “I’m fine and l’ll talk to you later,”  _ before sticking the phone back in her pocket.

Time seemed to pass in a different way when she was with Jamie. Last night, when she had danced with him, she still couldn’t explain exactly how it had even happened. Now, his arrival in the morning, the visit to urgent care, and their trip back home had gone before she even realized it. She was propped on her couch cushions once more, foot elevated, and though hours had passed it seemed like only moments.

* * *

And much like the night before, Jamie was gone before she even realized what had happened.

“I’m fine, Joe. Really!” She seemed to be insisting that a lot in the last 24 hours. “I was leaving the event last night and caught my heel in a crack or something and wrenched my ankle. It’s only sprained though. And I’m  _ fine.” _

“What about groceries? You’ve got enough stuff to see you through? ‘Cause Gail or I could drop something by.” Joe was always looking out for her at the hospital, a true friend through thick and thin. His wife Gail, was one of the most generous and flexible people that Claire knew and though her friendship took on different aspects, she was still one of the people Claire was closest to.

“It’s fine.”  _ There was that word again.  _ “Jamie brought me some.”

It had slipped out before she knew what she was saying but there was no taking it back, the mention of Jamie’s name. Joe pounced, gleefully.

“Ha! I bet you thought that I forgot he was with you when you came through earlier!”

She’d never hear the end of this.

“I’m surprised he even let you sit in a wheelchair. I’m surprised he didn’t carry you!”

“He did,” she mumbled, sheeks reddening even though they were on the phone and he couldn’t see her.

“He  _ carried  _ yo-” Joe began.

“ _ Anyway, _ ” she dragged the word out, syllable by syllable. “I have what I need and I’m doing fine. I’ll talk to you later, Joe.” 

And then she hung up before he could say anything else.

She threw herself back onto the pillows that littered her couch, bouncing against them and causing the bag of frozen peas she was using as an ice pack to slide off her swollen ankle.

_ “Honestly, ye call yerself a nurse?” Jamie had teased her earlier. “Only one ice pack in the whole flat.” _

_ “Two,” she’d argued. “I was using the other as a hot pack though.” She stared at her ankle instead of his blue (his  _ dark blue _ ) eyes. _

_ “Oh, aye? Let me go get it so we can make sure it’s frozen afore the next time you ice  _ that _ ,” he nodded toward the offending limb. _

_ She’d sent him on a veritable search and rescue mission through her  _ entire  _ home to find the ice pack before he’d returned to her empty-handed, a disappointed look on his face. _

_ “Cannae find it,” he shrugged. “I’m sorry, Sassenach. I could-” _

_ “I’m certain that I can survive on a single ice pack, Jamie,” she’d interrupted. “Thank you for looking.” She felt ridiculous now, knowing that parts of her place were in absolute disarray and he’d seen it all. Why she cared what this stranger thought was beyond her anyway. _

She might call Joe back later, or maybe Gail instead. Because she didn’t know exactly what was happening, but without Jamie what had once felt normal now felt empty.

She nudged the peas back into place and picked up the remote for her television, turning it on as a mindless distraction while her mind wandered...elsewhere.


End file.
